Review 219: Glenmorangie Astar

Review 219

9/3/14

Glenmorangie Astar: 57.1% abv

Background: Another review of a Glenmorangie from the KCM crew. There has been a lot of buzz from the Whisky Bible about Glenmorangie Ealanta, so why not do that? Well, because this is what we bought, so this is what you get. The highlight of Astar, a cask strength monster from the Highland distillery is the oak casks, that come from the Ozarks of Missouri. This staves are then air dried for 24 months (or 2 years for the conversion-challenged among us), which is an extremely positive mark on the cask quality. The assembled casks are heavily toasted, and Tennessee whisky is aged in these casks for 4 years. Finally, Astar makes its way into the cask and out spits a cask strength, natural color, non-chill filtered beast. The only thing that Glenmorangie doesn’t tell you, to their fault, is the age of this work. Rumor has it the whisky might be around 10 years old. So what now? Let’s figure out what this whisky is like.

Straight

Nose: Right off the bat, the first impression on the nose is heavy whiskey, like Jack Daniels. Cream and vanilla are prevalent at first, with mild malt aromas coming through subtly. There is some banana and coconut that pulls into the strong nose. As the nose starts to open up, the oak is pretty strong on the nose. If you really struggle, there is a bit of fall spices that can be smelled on the whisky. The nose is relatively simple though.

Arrival: The arrival starts with a boozy Tennessee whiskey flavor, with sweet malt and corn flavor. There is some bitter spice as well, but the flavor quickly dissipates after this. There is a little bit of hot cinnamon.

Body: The body introduces a savory flavor into the mix, still sustaining the Tennessee whiskey flavor and strong hints of vanilla. There is bitter, sappy oak that is dominating the flavor.

Finish: The finish is hugely oaky, with American whiskey and vanilla up front. The finish is hot and spicy, with bitter black peppercorn, cinnamon, and slight savory notes. There is some dry vegetal notes, with a slight smokiness that is reminiscent of burning tobacco.

With Water

Nose: The nose hasn’t opened up terribly well after adding water. The stubborn aromas don’t seem to be breaking free from the whisky. Unfortunately, the complexity is still lacking in this portion of the whisky.

Arrival: The arrival has allowed the whisky to really present itself well. Complexity is shy, but the Tennessee character is definitely well defined now. The spices are more bold and prominent. In general, the arrival is substantially more enjoyable. There is a bit of pear present now that wasn’t detected before.

Body: The body actually reveals some interesting complexities that weren’t prevalent before. There is a lot of herbal and vegetal notes, with blends of complex fruits, including grapes, pear, and nectarines. 

Finish:  The finish is still intense and spicy, with the toasted oak bursting through. The spices are huge, but not terribly distinguishable. The vegetal notes in this whisky are more prominent than before, with a malty aftertaste that reminds you you’re drinking a Scotch, and not an American whiskey. 

Final Comments: It might look like you’ve seen a rushed review, but that’s not terribly true. This is definitely a challenging whisky to deal with, but in a blind tasting, you might mistake this for a bourbon or a Tennessee whiskey. Does that make this a bad Scotch? Not nearly. But it does not give you the classic Glenmorangie fruity, floral whisky experience you might expect. It also lacks severely in complexity. That being said, this is a very quality whisky, and the recipe is done pretty well right. It is also respectable that Glenmorangie provided a lot of information on the whisky. Thus, you might struggle with whether or not to buy a bottle of this gem. Our suggestion is to steer clear of this respectable identity crisis unless you have nothing better to do with your money.

Why you’d buy it: It is a bourbon-lover’s Scotch, and with water it is really an enjoyable catch.

                                                                                                          

Why you wouldn’t: It really doesn’t justify its pricetag by any stretch of the imagination.

Score: 8.0 /10

Review 217: Gentleman Jack

Review 217

7/12/14

Gentleman Jack: 40% abv

Background: Here we go. Occasionally, the KCM crew likes to step back to the classics. We have never done a Jack Daniels review and you shouldn’t expect many more, but this is an instance where a bottle has been purchased and is ready for judgment. Gentleman Jack is Jack Daniel’s attempt at making a middle-range bottling of Jack Daniels to charge customers more for. Would you guess they would raise the proof? Increase the age time? Do some unique finishing operation or change the mash bill? You’d be wrong on all accounts. Gentleman Jack gets the Tennessee treatment  twice, instead of once. This is charcoal filtering, and that allegedly makes Tennessee whiskey differentiable from Bourbon, which I won’t refute at this very moment. In an “informative” video, a man in a Jack Daniels shirt informs us that short finishes and lack of oak flavor in Gentleman are the staple qualities that set this thing apart. It also sports a classically cheap 40% abv, and this man informs us that often times it’s not what we taste, but where we taste it that’s important. I like to taste whiskey in my mouth. I’m sure by now we’re all excited to try this velvety smooth masterpiece.

Straight

Nose: Yes, this is sweet alright. They weren’t kidding with that. Instantly, smells of anise, candied cherries, vanilla extract and white sugar pronounce themselves. There is some confectionary aroma in this glass, with a very mild hint of grains. This seems like a corn-heavy mash bill, and  the sweetness makes the complexity difficult to find. There is a distinctive alcohol smell that actually becomes more pronounced as the whiskey opens up.

Arrival: The arrival starts very candied, with sweet artificial fruit flavors. The candied cherries are very dominant, and there is a sweet, syrupy flavor up front. It is almost maple in flavor. There is some spice as well that is distinctive in the arrival. There is some bitter fruit flavors in the arrival as well, such as slight cranberry, but none of it stays for very long.

Body: There are suggestions of oak flavor in the body, and is pretty thin. Hints of anise and hot spices come across in the body, but dissipate quickly.

Finish: The finish leaves with a strong taste of sweetened corn and some wheat flavor. There is some maraschino cherry juice in the finish, which is actually the most eventful part of the whisky. Gentleman just seems to do a good job of lacking substance. There seems to be an ashy, charry wood flavor that is retained through the finish, which serves as the most interesting feature of the whiskey.

Final Comments: Sorry, sports fans. I tried adding water and unfortunately there is nothing to report. So what is there to conclude. This is the pinnacle of gimmicky drinks. I guess it isn’t too bad, but it lacks balance, it certainly lacks complexity, and the most unique thing about it is it’s “smooth”. Folks, the fallacy that Jack is trying to promote with this bottle is that complexity and ease of drinking are mutually exclusive. Those things aren’t true. The idea that WHAT you taste isn’t as important as WHERE you taste it is just madness. This isn’t worth the money, it isn’t worth the bad marketing, and it isn’t worth the ignorance. It is drinkable, and it is tolerable, but it doesn’t engage the drinker. Overall, this isn’t worth buying, and Jack Daniels will find that our generation of drinkers isn’t looking for something lacking in dynamics.  

Why you’d buy it: You’re a Jack drinker and you want to splurge on something more expensive, and just as bad.

                                                                                                          

Why you wouldn’t: See review.

Score:  6.75/10

Whisky Rage #2: Bourbon whiskey vs. Tennessee whiskey

Bourbon Vs. Tennessee Whiskey

Whiskey Rage #2

10/30/13

A few weeks ago, I wrote an article about removing age statements from Scotch in a fit of rage. It finally got to the point where I had to blow off some steam. Well, here we are again, and I’m not happy. I got in an argument about Tennessee Whiskey. It would seem that, if you want to impress your friends about your knowledge of whiskey, you will tell them that Jack Daniel’s ISN’T bourbon, it’s Tennessee Whiskey. WELL NOW, excuseeeeeee me. I seem to have forgotten the fundamentals of reading labels. *Nasally voice* “Well the label on Jack Daniel’s doesn’t say bourbon, does it”. Well John Doe, you aren’t just messing with any angry whisky drinking fireball. You’re messing with an angry whisky drinking fireball who does his research!

Unfortunately, if you type in a Google search about whether or not Tennessee whiskey is bourbon, a number of “credible” sites will tell you “Of course not! It’s made in Tennessee and charcoal filtered”. So Tennessee has succeeded in its goal of brand differentiation. The whole world of semi-educated drinkers will obstinately refute the idea that Jack Daniel’s is in fact bourbon. So why do I choose to argue that, and go against the flow of contemporary drinkers? Because I don’t just go by what one link on the internet tells me. So let me start with the facts:

Bourbon, as we all know, is a 51% corn mash whiskey, sour mashed or otherwise, aged in virgin White Oak barrels for at least 2 years, and made in the United States. NO, it doesn’t have to be made in Kentucky, and if you say it does, then may I please refer you to Prichards, Journeyman Distillery, Two James, New Holland, and the hundreds of other distilleries that are currently making bourbon outside of Kentucky. Don’t believe me? Look it up! The point is, there is a legal definition of bourbon, and Tennessee whiskey fits all of the parameters for being bourbon.

“But angry yelling man, Tennessee whiskey is charcoal filtered and that makes it different than bourbon!” Ahh, yes it is. Most of it, anyways. Prichard’s actually makes Tennessee whisky, labeled as Tennessee whiskey, that isn't charcoal filtered. In fact, Prichard’s makes a bourbon too. Do you know what the difference is? The difference is the kind of corn they use (white corn [Tennessee] instead of yellow corn [bourbon]).

Do you still think that charcoal filtering differentiates Tennessee whiskey from bourbon? Well what if I told you that Kentucky bourbon Ezra Brooks is charcoal filtered as well, and it’s STILL BOURBON. And by the way, Brita filters are also charcoal filters, so if you think Jack Daniel’s isn’t bourbon, I better not hear you calling your water “water” after it comes out of your Brita pitcher! It’s Tennessee H₂O, fine sir (bru ha ha). I bet you’re still arguing that Tennessee whiskey isn’t bourbon because somebody said it wasn’t.

Well then, let me ask you another question. Let us say that Jack Daniel’s decides to make a rye whiskey (they have, by the way), and charcoal filter that rye whiskey (which they probably will). Do we then say that because that whiskey was made in Tennessee and charcoal filter, it isn’t a rye whiskey? What do we call it then? Jack Daniel’s Tennessee² whiskey? I would postulate that when Jack Daniel’s comes out with a rye whiskey, they will call it a rye whiskey (they call it "unaged Tennesse Rye" at this point). So scientifically speaking, if making rye whiskey in Tennessee doesn’t change the fact that it is rye whiskey, why would we apply that logic to bourbon?!

I bet your asking now, if you have bothered to entertain my argument, “So why is there so much information out there saying Tennessee whiskey isn’t bourbon?” The answer is simple, and as frustrating as it is, it’s because Tennessee whiskey distillers WANT you to think they’re different. Why? It is brand differentiation. If Jack Daniel’s was just another bourbon, would it really be all that much more appealing than the cheaper Jim Beam alternative, or even worse; Ezra Brooks? I highly doubt it, when you’re having your $5 Jack and Coke. Brand image is what most of these companies survive on, and they’re succeeding in it.

I don’t blame anybody for thinking that the two of them are different, because even though NAFTA defines Tennessee whiskey as a type of bourbon, we hear all the time that they’re different. That being said, if you’re at the bar with somebody who ACTUALLY knows what they’re talking about, and you try and impress them with your knowledge, all you’re doing is making yourself look like an ass.

Afterthought: I’m not advocating going to Tennessee and arguing that Jack is bourbon, unless your fixing to get shot. Your safety is your own responsibility.